Then I chickened out because I don’t like conflict and this feels very conflicty-ish, and then I realized that just because I don’t like conflict doesn’t mean I can’t handle conflict or that I have to back away from conflict.
I’ve been working my ass off these last few weeks.
Now I’m calling this our stupid diet. Our stupid, lying diet.
He needs me to be successful in the old-fashioned sense of: I’m actually making money, damned good money, enough-to-pay-the-bills-and-then-some-kind-of-money.